Headshot
by QueenOfTheDreamers87
Summary: June 1968. Social climber Tom Riddle is the director of photography for wizarding magazines. During a shoot for a print ad, he meets a beautiful young model - Bellatrix Black - who seems far more interested in what she's heard of Lord Voldemort's plans than in Tom Riddle's editorial work. Soon, Tom's behind the camera and Bellatrix is plotting her place in his future.
1. Chapter 1

_June 1968_

"No; that's all wrong. She looks like she's gone three days without food and is nonverbally conveying that hunger to us." Tom Riddle dragged his fingers through his hair and narrowed his eyes. "What did you say your name was again?"

The witch with the long, straight blonde hair set down the bottle of Madam Blondelle's Blonde-It Creme on the table before her and pinched her lips.

"Verbena Greengrass," she said, and the photographer behind the magical camera gave Tom a rather nervous look. Tom cleared his throat. He had little wiggle room here; this witch was the daughter of an aristocratic, Blue-Blooded family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. If he meant to keep climbing, if he meant to truly become Lord Voldemort to these people, he couldn't make those families angry.

"Miss Greengrass," he said in the kindest voice he could muster, "do you mind if we try it with someone else for just a quick moment, just to see if it's a lighting problem or something, and then we'll put you back in there to shoot the ad? Hmm?"

"You know, just forget it," said Verbena Greengrass. "We've spent over an hour taking photographs of this dumb bottle and you've done nothing but criticise."

"My dear," Tom said, tipping his head, "if you wish to be a model for publications like _Witch Weekly_ and _This Week's Wizard_ , then you simply must be willing to put up with a little bit of -"

"You've done nothing but criticise!" Verbena snapped again, and her thin arched brows angled downward in an angry expression. Tom raised his own brows and shrugged.

"Miss Greengrass, I am at a loss for words. All I can say is… thank you for your time, and please know that we'll contact you again should we be in need of your services."

"Yeah. Thanks." Verbena rolled her eyes and stormed off the set and out the door. Tom sighed heavily and licked his bottom lip. His photographer, a white-haired man called Silas, asked quietly,

"You want me to go fetch that other girl? The back up?"

"What was her name?" Tom asked, feeling a bit of dread go through him. Silas pulled out a parchment from a leather folio and said,

"Black. Bellatrix Black."

Tom snapped to attention. Bellatrix Black? _The_ Bellatrix Black? The eldest daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black? Rumoured to be a complete hellion at Hogwarts? _That_ Bellatrix Black?

"She's young," Tom pondered with false calm. "Very young for a job like this. And she's going to have to be willing to temporarily stand here with blonde hair for the ad. But let's give her a try. Go fetch her in from the corridor."

"Yes, sir." Silas rose and walked with a limp toward the wooden door through which Verbena Greengrass had just stormed. Tom paced in little circles, scratching at his thinning, greying hair. He had removed his outer robe for the shoot and wore a white dress shirt with a dark blue waistcoat and dark blue trousers with perfectly fitted brown shoes. He was handsomely dressed - dressed like a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it.

Tom Riddle had come back from the Continent as Lord Voldemort, but very few called him by that name. Very few gave him that respect yet. He'd come back and immediately begun climbing, recruiting his old school lackeys into giving him money and influence. He'd quickly worked his way up to the position of photographic editor for the umbrella company that owned _Witch Weekly_ and _The Weekly Wizard_. The position not only paid him enough for a modestly elegant flat in London, but it also gave him access to members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Of course, encounters like the one he'd just had with a Greengrass girl were less than desirable.

"Mr Riddle, sir?"

He turned at the sound of his name and froze. This model was different than the girl who had come before. She didn't have the build of a model. She was too small, too short, too gangly. Her hair was an explosion of black curls. Her brows were thick. Her lips were full. She didn't look like a model, and yet, she was remarkably beautiful. Tom's breath caught in his chest a little bit, and he nodded as he whispered,

"Miss Black."

"I've heard so much about you from… from my father." Bellatrix Black approached him and actually curtsied, right there in the beautiful velvet dress she was wearing. She bowed her head and murmured, "I've quite liked all the things I've heard."

"Have you?" For some reason, Tom's heart was racing now. He tried to swallow, failed, and finally reached out to put his hand to Bellatrix's shoulder. "D'you mind going blonde just for a few minutes? I can do it with a spell instead of the creme. It's more temporary."

"I'll do whatever you like," Bellatrix said softly, and Tom's eyes went wide. Suddenly he had a vision in his mind that needed to be blinked away, and he cleared his throat very roughly as he said,

"Right. Well, the outfit we had set aside for the shoot got worn by Miss Greengrass as she stormed out of here. I actually rather like the look of your dress, but the colour…"

"Sorry. I always wear black," Bellatrix said apologetically, but Tom shrugged and aimed his wand at her.

"No matter. Let's go with… red. It's a black and white photo; we just need a different shade of grey in the photos, you understand."

"Of course." Bellatrix glanced down as Tom Transfigured her velvet dress from black to red, leaving her with knee-high black boots sticking out the bottom.

"Now… the hair…" Tom carefully walked around her in a circle, bleaching her hair all the way from black to icy blonde. He had to admit to himself that it looked unnatural upon her, that she looked odd with blonde hair, but when he came back to the front, she was still very pretty. She smiled at him, and there was something very genuine in her eyes, in the way that she smiled. He tried to swallow again, and once more he failed.

"Go over to the table, please, and pick up the bottle of Madam Blondelle's Blonde-It Creme. Then turn and look at the label, turn the bottle back to the camera, and give us a winning grin. Have you got that?"

"Yes, sir. I believe so." Bellatrix walked in her high heels over to the table and picked up the bottle.

"Camera rolling," Tom said, and Silas began the moving photograph shot.

"Turn the bottle and look happily at the label," Tom directed, and Bellatrix did just that. He nodded. "Now turn the bottle back to us and grin."

When she did as he said, turning the bottle back to the camera and giving a broad, beautiful smile, his heart thumped in his chest.

"Cut the shot, Silas," Tom finally whispered, and Tom did, pulling a large rectangular frame out of the magical camera. He touched his wand to it to develop it, and then he handed it to Tom to examine. He watched it replay itself three times in a row. Over and over, he watched Bellatrix in black and white, the shades all perfect, the look just right. He watched her pick up a hair product creme with her hair wild and blonde, watched her read its label and look impressed, and then turn it back to the camera and grin. He watched it three times and then handed it back to Silas and said,

"That's the one."

"That's it?" asked Bellatrix. "What was Andy on about, then?"

"Andy?" asked Tom as he changed Bellatrix's hair and dress back to black for her. "Who's Andy?"

"My sister, Andromeda." Bellatrix rolled her eyes a bit. "You see, sir, we just got home five days ago on the Hogwarts Express. On the train, she bet me thirty Galleons that I couldn't model over the summer, that no one would hire me and that I wouldn't be able to do it. I didn't have the right look, she said, much less the right temperament. I went the afternoon that we got home and got headshots taken by Mr Agro and submitted them the next morning to Wondrous Witches Talent, and here I am."  
"Andy seems supremely confident - and wrong - in her knowledge of the modeling industry," Tom noted, amused. "How old is she?"

"Fourteen. Two years younger than me," Bellatrix said offhandedly, and Tom's stomach flopped. Bellatrix was entirely too young for him to be finding beautiful, he thought. He chewed his lip and told Silas,

"You can go ahead and take that straight to the printing room and tell them that's the shot for the ad, Silas. I'll finish up here."

Silas waved a hand at Bellatrix, who just nodded at him as he left. Once they were alone, and Bellatrix had made extra sure of that, she looked back to Tom and whispered,

"My father calls you _Lord Voldemort_."

"Does he?" Tom was happy to hear that. He folded his arms and shrugged. "What else does your father say about me?"

"That you've got ideas that will save the wizarding world from eating itself alive," Bellatrix said excitedly, "and that you're going to form an army someday, an army of soldiers who will fight for you and everything you stand for."

Tom was dizzy all of a sudden. Who was this… this _girl_ standing before him, this girl who only needed one chance to take the perfect picture? Would she only need one shot to make the perfect kill? Who was this girl? He needed to know more of her. He opened the eyes he hadn't realised he'd shut, and he asked as gently as he could,

"And if I were to someday gather myself an army of soldiers…?"

Bellatrix tipped up her chin and smirked. "I'd much rather be a soldier than a model, sir, with all due respect."

Voldemort reached out and put his knuckle beneath Bellatrix's chin.

"I think your sister is going to owe you more than thirty Galleons by the summer's end, Miss Black."

 **Author's Note: Mwah hahaha. No, this one won't be a full novel-length story; this is just the last Bellamort romp that I'll get in before** _ **Fantastic Beasts**_ **comes out. My son does modeling and acting (in the Muggle world) so I'm playing around with that microworld in this little story. Haha. I'm also working hard on an original novel at the moment that requires a ton of research, so bear with me if updates on this one aren't my five-chapters-a-day whackadoodle usual. Thank you so much for reading and please do leave a REVIEW! Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Was that an owl I heard?"

Bellatrix's boots thunked ungracefully as she careened down the stairs of her parents' townhouse in London. She whirled around the newel post and dashed into the parlour, where both of her sisters and mother were having tea.

"Yes, it was an owl," said Druella. "It's just this week's copy of _Witch Weekly._ Why?"

"Let me see!" Bellatrix breathlessly snatched the copy of the magazine from her mother's hands, eliciting a gasp, and she began flipping through it. Her eyes scanned every moving photograph, every illuminated advertisement, until finally she squealed with delight and jabbed her finger at the page.

"You see?" She rapped her finger against the glossy page. "Here I am, Andy! Right here! Modeling! See?"

"What?" Narcissa stood, setting down her tea, and Andromeda slowly followed suit. Soon all the Black women were gathered around the copy of _Witch Weekly_ , staring at Bellatrix in a half-page advertisement for Madam Blondelle's Blonde-It Creme. Over and over, she looked at the bottle, then grinned at the reader. Over and over and over, the photograph repeated itself. Bellatrix shook with excitement.

Suddenly she remembered Tom Riddle - Lord Voldemort - who had directed the photo shoot, and how handsome he'd seemed despite how much older he'd been. She gulped and blinked quickly, her smile fading a little as she realised she wanted to see him again. She licked her lip and shrugged.

"Well, that's that," she said, but Druella grabbed the magazine and exclaimed,

"My goodness, Bellatrix! I can't believe that you've actually -"

"So you want thirty Galleons now, I suppose," Andromeda snapped, crossing her arms over her chest, and Druella looked from one daughter to another.

"Thirty Galleons? What's this?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes at Andromeda for bringing up the bet before their mother. She huffed.

"Andy bet me thirty Galleons that no one would hire me to model. I said on the train that I wanted to do it. She said no one would hire me because I didn't have the right look and I didn't have the right temperament. But Mr Riddle seemed to think I had just the right look and temperament. We got that ad done in one shot. Verbena Greengrass stormed out in a tiff after an hour of fuss."

"There will be no money exchanged between the two of you girls over this!" Druella insisted. "My goodness. My girls, betting against one another's success. How dreadful. How terrible and dreadful. I won't have it. I simply won't."

"Yes, Mother," murmured Andromeda, and she tipped her head, her brunette waves falling around her pretty face. "Congratulations, Bella."

"Thanks, Andy," Bellatrix said lightly. Suddenly there was another loud screech at the open window, and Druella frowned.

"More post?" She inquired to no one in particular. She walked over to the snowy owl perched on the windowsill and took off the envelope. "Bellatrix, it's for you."

Bellatrix felt her stomach churn a little. Who would be writing to her? She licked her dry lip again and went over to her mother, taking the envelope and opening it, pulling out the small card of parchment inside. On the parchment was exceedingly neat handwriting that read,

 _Dear Miss Black,_

 _I write to inform you that you have secured yet another modeling job. Please report to Mr Riddle's studio in Diagon Alley tomorrow at 9:00 in the morning to shoot an advertisement for Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Hair, makeup, and wardrobe will be on set; come as you are._

 _Regards,_

 _Ella Hardwicke, Wondrous Witches Talent_

* * *

Bellatrix raised her fist and knocked on the door in the interior corridor of the second storey of the building in Diagon Alley where Mr Riddle shot his advertisements and photo profiles. For a long moment, there was no response, but then the door opened, and he was there.

Him. He was there.

He was standing there in very dark green robes, a colour which seemed to suit him, and he curled up his lips with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He raked his fingers through his hair and said simply,

"Please do come in."

"Good morning, sir," said Bellatrix, and she stepped into the studio with him. She looked around, and she saw a cosmetics table set up with products and potions. She saw a rack with several sets of robes upon it. But there was no one else here. She frowned a little. Where was Silas, the photographer? Where were the hair and makeup witches?

"I'm conducting this shoot myself," said Mr Riddle, and Bellatrix's mouth fell open a little. She looked up at him - up, up, for he was very tall, and she nodded.

"I can do my own hair and makeup," she promised. "However you tell me."

"I knew you'd be able to. Figured I'd save the money of paying all the extra staff," Mr Riddle said simply. He walked over to the rack of robes, all of them light-coloured silk with capes, and he narrowed his eyes a little. He shook his head.

"I want you dressed in dark," he said quietly. "The bubbles you blow should contrast with your hair and clothes. I actually quite like that dress you've come in."

Bellatrix looked down at herself. She'd tried to look nice today, wearing a black lace dress with three-quarter length sleeves and full skirts that reached her knees. She wore black boots with it. But her hair was wild, she knew.

"Braid it," Tom Riddle commanded her, and Bellatrix reached for her hair. She immediately pulled it over one shoulder and wound a plait, and Mr Riddle Conjured a tie for her, which she gratefully accepted. Once her hair was controlled, he told her,

"Dark lipstick, Enchanted to stay. Dark eyes. I want contrast between the chewing gum and you. I want you dark today."

She shivered at that. He wanted her dark today. He wanted her Dark…

Bellatrix breathed quickly through her nose as she walked over to the cosmetics table. Her fingers shook like mad as she used the magical kohl stick to draw thick black lines around her eyes, as she applied mascara, as she blushed her cheeks and applied deep plum lipstick. Then she paused and turned to look at Mr Riddle, and she shrugged helplessly.

"Underage use of magic, sir."

"Ah." A strange look came over his face as he realised she couldn't enchant her own lipstick to stay on. Not here in Diagon Alley. She knew how, of course, but it was illegal. He walked up to her and murmured a Sticking Spell. She nodded her thanks, and he asked her offhandedly,

"When do you turn seventeen?"

"September, sir," she told him. "Twenty-first September."

"Not so very far away, then." His eyebrows raised, and Bellatrix's heart could have beat itself straight out onto the floor then. She swallowed past a knot in her throat and stared up, up at him.

"So it's chewing gum today," she whispered, and he nodded. He seemed to snap to rights.

"Yes. I'll be taking the photographs myself. Come on over here." He led her over to the set that was lit with lanterns Charmed to be much brighter than usual. There was an elegant, stylish armchair in the middle of the white-sheet set, and Mr Riddle said,

"I want you to sit in the chair and cross your legs at the knees.

"Yes, sir." Bellatrix sat, and he watched as she arranged herself. He frowned and said,

"Sit up a little. Yes, just…. Then your legs should be… just a bit more… do you mind if I…?"

"Please. By all means." Bellatrix nodded, giving him permission to touch her, and then suddenly his hands were on her. She thought she was going to faint. He was touching her. Arranging her. Adjusting her knees. Tilting her foot. Placing her hands just so on the arms on the chair. It felt so good. It felt beyond good.

Soon Bellatrix was chewing the gum and blowing the bubbles that would last for days if you didn't Vanish them. Mr Riddle wanted a photograph of Bellatrix blowing the perfect sized bubble, then smirking as it floated away. Over and over they repeated the takes, for he just wasn't getting the image he wanted. Over and over he Vanished the bubbles. Finally Bellatrix's jaw hurt so badly that she raised a hand and rubbed hard, and she shut her eyes, sighing.

"Your jaw hurts," Mr Riddle noted, and Bellatrix insisted,

"I'm fine. Sorry."

He huffed a breath and walked up to her, brushing the tip of his pale wand along her jaw and murmuring, " _Allevio Trio._ "

Suddenly the pain was gone, but Bellatrix shivered in a way she knew he could see. He crouched down and stared straight into her eyes.

"It's the smirk," he said finally, and Bellatrix frowned. He explained, "I need you to look more devilish as the bubble floats away. I _know_ you have it in you. I know you've got a better smirk in you. Shut your eyes. Do it."

She closed her eyes, and he ordered her,

"Think of a very satisfying time you got your way."

Bellatrix remembered the time that Vellanor Llewellyn, a Hufflepuff girl, had quietly made fun of Bellatrix's hair in Potions lessons. Bellatrix had dropped some Bat's Blood into Vellanor's potion when she hadn't been looking, and it had blown up into a sticky purple mess that had earned Vellanor zero marks for the day.

"There it is."

Bellatrix opened her eyes and stared at Mr Riddle, feeling the smirk on her lips, and she laughed just a little.

"I see what you mean, sir."

"Poor Vellanor," Mr Riddle joked, raising a brow, and Bellatrix gasped a little. So it was true. He was a Legilimens. She sat up a little straighter, adjusting her hands on the arms of the chair. Could he feel or sense the way she found him attractive? Could he feel or sense or read the way she went dizzy around him? If he could, did he think she was a silly little fool for it?

"You're no fool," Mr Riddle said, shaking his head. "Now think of that bat's blood in that potion, and give me that smirk."

"Yes, sir," Bellatrix whispered, her breath and heart racing. She picked up and unwrapped yet another piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, chomped it a few times, and then said, "Ready."

"You're leaning a bit to the right; sit up straight," Mr Riddle said from behind the camera. He was so handsome with his sleeves rolled up, Bellatrix thought. Then she tried not to think of him. She tried to think of Vellanor mocking her hair. She adjusted her posture, and Mr Riddle said,

"And… blow the bubble."

Bellatrix blew a large, solid bubble and let it go with her dark, painted lips. As it floated away, she thought of dropping the bat's blood into Vellanor's potion, and she smirked at the bubble. He fingers tightened just a little on the chair arms as her smirk grew, and the bubble drifted away.

"That's it. That's the one. _Evanesco._ "

Mr Riddle Vanished the bubble and pulled out the image from the camera. He developed it with his wand and watched it over and over again. He gestured for Bellatrix to come over, and Bellatrix watched it play over and over again. This was a snarky sort of ad, she thought. She grinned.

"I love it."

"It's good." Mr Riddle dragged his fingers around the frame of the picture and then put it into a leather case. He sighed and said, "I should get this back to the _This Week's Wizard_ offices so it can get into publication. It was good working with you again, Miss Black."

She hesitated, and then decided to make the leap.

"If it's true what they say about you, Lord Voldemort, and you're gathering people for a purpose, then perhaps I could work with you again in future."

His dark eyes flashed, and his nostrils flared a little, and he nodded.

"Perhaps you could, Miss Black. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon. Look out for owls from Ms Hardwicke from the agency."

"Yes, sir." Bellatrix stared up at him, wanting so badly and so oddly for him to bend down and kiss her. Why did she want him to kiss her? She hardly knew him. She hardly knew anything _of_ him - only what her father, an old school friend, had told her. She chewed her lip and whispered,

"Goodbye, then, sir."

He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles, and he whispered back,

"Good day, Miss Black."

 **Author's Note: Ooooooh, this romp is already too much fun to write. Thank you for reading and a massive thank you for reviewing.**


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't understand why Mr Malfoy is having such an extravagant birthday party," complained Andromeda as she yanked on her white satin gloves. She'd opted for a green tulle dress for tonight's party at Malfoy Manor.

"Forty is a milestone, darling," said Druella, putting an earring into her ear.

"Forty? But surely he's turning forty-two like you and Daddy?" asked Narcissa, who came walking into the parlour in her pretty silvery lace dress. "I thought he played Quidditch with Daddy."

"He did, dear, but he was two years younger," said Druella. Bellatrix walked into the parlour in her own gown, an elegant black silk column with elbow-length black gloves. She'd pulled her hair back into a low chignon and wore a jeweled and feathered comb stuck into her tamed curls. She listened as Druella explained,

"In school, Tom Riddle was in charge of this group of… friends. Your father was the same age as Tom Riddle, and so were a few others, like Mr Avery and Mr Lestrange. Others were a year younger - Mr Mulciber, Mr Nott, Mr Crabbe. And then a few, like Mr Goyle and Mr Malfoy, were two years younger. So Mr Malfoy is turning forty."

Druella turned around in a slow circle to survey her three daughters - the way Narcissa had done up her blonde waves, the way Andromeda had styled her hair in a knot of braids. She nodded appraisingly and clasped her hands together.

"I want my daughters to look like good options for the Pureblood boys at this party," she said, and Andromeda scoffed, rolled her eyes, and touched at her forehead.

"We are not meat for sale at market, Mother."

"No, no, you are not, but someday you'll all marry, and now is the time to be looking like good prospects. You all look lovely. Let's go, shall we? Cygnus! We are downright _late!_ How is it that the witches are all ready and the wizard lags behind?"

The Malfoy ballroom was set up with a small orchestra for dancing, a large enchanted fountain of alcoholic punch and another of Champagne, a table with trays of vegetables and fruits and another table with hot foods like stuffed mushrooms and miniature mince pies. A massive dessert spread was out, too. Bellatrix decided to skip all the regular food and go straight for the delicious-looking puff pastries. She put three on a plate and then stood back, biting into one and moaning softly at the delicious taste of the cream inside.

"Good evening, Miss Black."

She whirled around so quickly that she dropped her plate of pastries, but he Vanished the plate before it could hit the floor. Bellatrix raised her eyes to see _him_ standing before her in tuxedo robes. Him. Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort. She dug her teeth into her GlamourMore's Stay All Day Lipstick - bright red - and she murmured,

"Hullo, Mr Riddle. I suppose I forgot you'd be here."

"Oh. Yes. Mr Malfoy is a very good friend of mine." Mr Riddle sipped deeply from a tumbler of firewhisky he was holding, and he asked Bellatrix,

"How's the modeling been going? I've only had wizards and two elderly witches to photograph over the past two weeks."

"Oh. I just had one job, a hand modeling… _thing…_ " Bellatrix giggled a little. "I just had to open this Charmed music box over and over for an hour whilst they took photographs of me doing it. Got a nice manicure out of it all. It was for the _Daily Prophet._ "

"Ah." Mr Riddle finished off his drink, which refilled itself, and Bellatrix asked him curiously,

"Does it really burn all that badly? Firewhisky?"

He held out his tumbler to her. "Why don't you find out?"

She looked around and felt her eyes go wide. "Underaged drinking?"

He laughed darkly and took it back, and he said in a taunting sort of voice, "And here I had heard you were a terrible rule-breaker at Hogwarts."

"I am." Bellatrix smirked. She reached for the tumbler, taking it from his hand and sipping, and she quickly shoved it back. It did burn, like actual fire going down her throat and into her chest, and she coughed and spluttered a little. Mr Riddle laughed and laughed, seemingly very amused.

"Yes," he guffawed merrily, "it burns that badly."

But his mirth quickly evaporated, almost as though someone had cast a spell over him to dissolve it into thin air. He sipped at his firewhisky and said blandly,

"That tall, skinny boy over there is simply dying for me to stop talking with you so he can ask you to dance."

"Who?" Bellatrix turned her face and saw Rodolphus Lestrange, a Slytherin boy in her year, standing with his hands folded in front of him near the stuffed mushrooms. He seemed anxious, shifting on his feet and pursing his thin lips. Bellatrix sighed. "Dolph. He's had a crush on me since third year."

"Well, I shall make my exit and allow him to make his grand entrance. Good evening, Miss Black. I hope to work with you again soon." Mr Riddle bowed his head and walked away briskly, leaving Bellatrix standing alone. Rodolphus shuffled up quickly, and he cleared his throat as he said in a cracking voice to Bellatrix,

"You look so lovely tonight, Bella."

"Thank you, Dolph," Bellatrix said, forcing a small smile back.

"Would you please dance with you?" Rodolphus asked. Then he caught his mistake and stammered, "With… with me! _Me._ Would you please dance with _me_?"

Bellatrix laughed a little and nodded. "Of course, Dolph."

She walked with him to the dance floor and adopted an awkward dancing stance, holding his hand and shoulder loosely and feeling his hand a little too low on her back. She shifted until he edged it upward, and then they began to waltz. Or, at least, they tried to waltz. Rodolphus was absolutely hopeless with the three-step. They didn't talk at all during the dance, because he seemed so preoccupied with counting steps and beats. Finally Bellatrix asked,

"How's your summer going?"

Rodolphus stumbled a little but answered, "Oh, it's just been endless Quidditch playing. Rabastan and I have a pitch on our grounds at home in Essex, you know? One-two-three… sorry, I'm a really rotten dancer."

"You're fine," Bellatrix lied.

"I saw you in _This Week's Wizard_ ," Rodolphus informed Bellatrix, grinning even though his feet faltered. "Blowing bubbles. It was a really great ad. You looked really great; I didn't realise you'd been modeling, and - oh, sorry! Sorry! Sorry!"

"It's fine. Everything is fine." Bellatrix hissed through her teeth in pain. Rodolphus had trod straight upon her foot, and her ears were ringing from it. Fortunately, the song was ending, and Rodolphus scowled.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, and Bellatrix just whispered,

"It's fine."

"Pardon me cutting in," said a voice, and Bellatrix looked up to see Tom Riddle sidling up, "but I wonder if Miss Black has another dance in her before taking a break."

"Of course." Bellatrix grinned at the idea of dancing with him, and then she saw that Rodolphus was bowing to Mr Riddle and murmuring quietly,

"Hope your evening is splendid, sir."

"Thank you, Mr Lestrange." Mr Riddle took Rodolphus' place, but he was so much more smooth and confident as he grasped Bellatrix's hand and held it higher, as he planted his hand gently upon her back. They began to dance to a two-step, and he tipped his head and asked her,

"How's your foot?"

"It's fine," Bellatrix lied. "Thank you."

He pulled her a little closer, and he said quietly, "That boy's crush is profound."

"You know because you're a Legilimens." Bellatrix raised her face, realising now how closely she was standing to Mr Riddle. She wanted to be closer. She moved nearer to him. She edged closer than ever and gulped. "Are you in my mind right now?"

"I should stop dancing with you." Mr Riddle shut his eyes for a moment, but the hand on her back pulled again, and this time when she was pulled nearer, her chest touched his dress robes. She was so, so close. So close to him. She could smell wet earth and ocean air on him. She tipped her head forward a little and felt her forehead brush against the button on his shirt. Suddenly everything faded away. The entire room was gone. Everything except the music and him were gone. He was holding her hand tightly now. His fingers cinched on her back.

"I should stop dancing with you," he said again, and he pulled back. "I'm drunk."

"Are you?" Bellatrix parted her lips and tried to catch her breath. She whispered desperately, "You don't seem so very drunk."

"I'm entirely too tipsy to be dancing with you," Mr Riddle replied. But he didn't stop dancing. He pulled her close again and stared down into her eyes, and he blinked slowly as he mumbled,

"I've got an ad for Stay All Day Lipstick coming up. I'd like to use you for it."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes a little and shook her head. "You need someone with pretty lips for a lipstick ad, Mr Riddle."

"Mmm-hmm." He gulped, his throat bobbing. "I'd like to use you for the ad. I'll have your agent contact you about it."

Bellatrix let her mouth fall open, and she shook her head.

"I've never…" She didn't know what she wanted to say. _I've never felt my stomach flutter like this from a wizard. I've never wanted to smell a man before. I've never wanted a kiss so badly in all my life._

"I need to stop dancing with you now," Mr Riddle said, and he pulled back again, bowing his head for a long moment as he murmured, "I'm going out to the corridor for some air; it's stuffy in here. Thank you for the dance."

The song ended then anyway, so Bellatrix just nodded as he hurried off. She was dizzy, so she made her way to the non-alcoholic drinks table and got herself some Gillywater.

"What on Earth was _that?_ "

Bellatrix whirled around to see Andromeda, Narcissa, and a few Slytherin girls from school standing in a pack before her. Bellatrix felt like a cornered rat.

"What was what?" she countered. Andromeda put her hands on her narrow hips and made her eyes into suspicious slits.

"You were dancing with him like the two of you were about to start snogging right then and there! What on Earth was that?"

"Was it… did it look odd?" Bellatrix asked seriously, and all the other girls nodded gravely. Bellatrix shrugged.

"I've gotten to know him through my modeling work. We were just dancing."

"Just dancing," scoffed Verbena Greengrass, who had marched out on a shoot with Mr Riddle before. "He looked like he wanted to kiss you, and you looked like you wanted to rip his trousers off."

"Don't be vile," Narcissa hissed, and Bellatrix puffed out a breath as she realised how hot it seemed inside the ballroom. She needed a moment to herself, she thought. She shook her head wildly and told the girls,

"It was nothing. You were all just imagining things that weren't there. It was a simple dance. Now, if you'll kindly excuse me."

She pushed by them all, clutching her Gillywater. She swigged it and put the empty glass down on a tray of a passing House-Elf, and then she made her way out into the corridor. Then realisation came over her. She'd forgotten that he'd escaped out here for fresh air himself, and when she came barreling out into hallway, she saw him leaning up against a wallpapered surface free of portraits or paintings, and she stammered,

"I… I'm sorry. I'll go back in. I didn't mean to -"

"Come here." Mr Riddle's voice was very firm, and Bellatrix sighed as she thought that he seemed angry with her. She pinched her lips and walked over toward where he was standing, leaning against the wall, and she asked him,

"Have I said something wrong?"

"No." He reached out for her, holding her jaw, and he brushed his thumb under her eye. That made her shiver and flush warm and wet, and she was suddenly bereft of breath. She shut her eyes and heard Mr Riddle say,

"You want me to kiss you. You want it very badly."

Bellatrix said nothing. She just stood there, his hand cupping her face, his thumb brushing under her eye, and she finally whispered,

"I'm going to be a soldier for you someday, Lord Voldemort."

"Stop talking like that," he murmured frantically, and she opened her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because," he breathed, lowering his mouth to hers, "if you talk like that, I'll do things that I… can't… things I can't take back."

Bellatrix stared straight into his dark eyes, reached up to hold the front of his dress robes, and whispered again,

"Someday, I will be a soldier for you and serve you."

"Bellatrix." He bent the rest of the way then, and his lips brushed against hers. She moaned quietly, opening her mouth. His tongue crept inside and dragged over the roof of her mouth, then twined with hers, and Bellatrix grasped more firmly at his dress robes. This felt good. This felt so, so good.

"Bellatrix!"  
She yanked her mouth from his and whirled around, gasping when she saw Andromeda standing in the doorway to the corridor. Before she could call out, before Mr Riddle could Obliviate her, before anyone could do anything, Andromeda had spun on the ball of her foot and rushed back into the ballroom.

 **Author's Note: Gahhhhh! Tension, then relief, and then caught! How will Cygnus and Druella feel about this? Who else will Andromeda tell? Will Bellatrix get to make her Stay All Day lipstick ad with Voldemort? Sorry about the cliffhanger; I rarely do that to my readers! Thanks for reading and a MASSIVE, ENORMOUS, HUMONGOUS thank you for reviews. I realize this one doesn't have a ton of readership, so any feedback is extra appreciated.**


	4. Chapter 4

"What do we do?" Bellatrix hissed, and Tom put a hand on her shoulder as he licked his lip and tasted her there. He swallowed hard and said,

"Let me go talk to Cygnus… to your father. You stay out here for a few moments until I get things settled down."

"I'm so sorry," Bellatrix said desperately, but Tom just shook his head and insisted,

"I did the kissing."

He walked away from her with long strides then, back into the ballroom, and he saw Andromeda gesticulating wildly to Cygnus Black III. Cygnus raised his eyes to stare at Tom Riddle, and Tom breathed in deeply through his nostrils. He was prepared to Hex or Curse anyone he needed to, but then he saw Andromeda vibrate with the unmistakable look of someone who had been Confounded, and Tom frowned. Andromeda walked away from her father, calm and collected, and went over to a gaggle of girls with a serene smile on her face. Cygnus began walking across the ballroom, toward Tom, and he sipped at a glass of punch. He bowed his head as he approached, and he said softly,

"I've made certain Andromeda will keep her mouth shut about what she saw. Sir."

Tom felt surprise roil through him, and he tipped his head. "Thank you, Cygnus."

But then he realised something. Cygnus wanted his eldest daughter, almost of age, to be courted by the aspirational and powerful Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort. Tom cleared his throat and admitted,

"We don't know one another very well, Bellatrix and I. I apologise."

"She has spoken very admiringly of you for the last few weeks," Cygnus said seriously, "and she is interested in joining any movement you may assemble. I beg you to at least consider her for participation in your politics, sir."

"Of course," Tom nodded, and he glanced over as Bellatrix came walking gingerly back into the ballroom. She seemed confused to see her father and the man she'd been caught kissing speaking in measured tones, to see her sister chatting with friends. Tom decided the evening had produced more than enough drama, and he said to Cygnus,

"I think I'll head home."

"Good evening, sir," Cygnus murmured, and he backed away. Bellatrix caught Tom's eye as he was leaving, after saying goodnight to Abraxas Malfoy, and he winked at her. Her cheeks pinked, and her hand visibly tightened on her glass of Gillywater, but she just nodded as he walked briskly out of the ballroom.

He could still taste her hours later.

* * *

"Hello, Mr Riddle. I'm Imogen; I'll be doing hair and makeup today." The sprightly blonde witch in her twenties, who could have easily modeled herself, flashed a winning smile to Tom as she came walking into his studio. Silas was already there, setting up the camera, and Tom huffed a breath.

"Hello. Welcome. Our model will be here soon," he said. "You can set up just there at the cosmetics table."

"The model's just here, actually," said a voice, and Tom snapped his face to see Bellatrix come ambling into the studio, smiling nervously. She'd come in a plain black cotton dress with a wide belt and black boots, her hair in wild curls around her face. She looked beautiful, Tom thought. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her. He wanted…

"Hello! I'm Imogen!" The witches introduced themselves to one another, and then Imogen set to work on Bellatrix. Tom watched in wonder as Imogen followed the instructions that the client, GlamourMore, had placed on this particular shoot. Suddenly Bellatrix's curls were being straightened and smoothed with Sleekeazy's that was combed through carefully by Imogen. Once Bellatrix's hair was sleek, she looked very different, and she seemed self-conscious.

"Looks nice," Tom said, realising at once that he shouldn't compliment her like that in front of Imogen and Silas. It didn't help when Bellatrix turned, her hair swishing over her shoulders, and flashed him a little smile as she asked,

"Really? I almost never wear it straight."

"It looks nice," Tom assured her. He cleared his throat and walked away, going to sit by Silas as Imogen began applying makeup. He flicked his eyes over every now and then to see creams and powders being applied, and then she asked,

"Dark or light shade of lipstick for the photography, Mr Riddle?"

"It's a colour advertisement," he said, "and the client requested ruby red."

"Ruby red," Imogen nodded. She carefully applied lipstick to Bellatrix's mouth, and Bellatrix said quietly,

"I have this exact lipstick at home. I got it as a sixteenth birthday gift from my mother."

"How sweet," smiled Imogen. Tom's stomach churned again as he realised how young she was. Soon enough, Bellatrix was being brought to a stool with bright lanterns shining onto it, and Silas brought the camera in nice and close.

"My goodness," Bellatrix marveled, "Close-up shot today, eh?"

"You're going to take this handkerchief," Tom said, handing a square cloth to Bellatrix, "and dab your lips then, show the clean cloth to the camera and smile. You're showing the staying power of the lipstick. Give it a go."

"Like this?" Bellatrix touched her lips and then held up the handkerchief, grinning beautifully. Tom felt an odd stirring inside him, and he nodded.

"Like that. Silas, roll the camera. And… dab. Smile. A little too much smile. Again. Ready? Dab. Smile. Not enough smile. In between. Once more. Ready? Roll. Dab… smile. Perfect!"

Bellatrix laughed a little, looking so remarkably beautiful that Tom shivered a little where he stood.

"Let me see that shot, Silas," he ordered, and Silas pulled the shot out of the camera, developing it with his wand. Tom watched the shot over and over again and frowned. Bellatrix's smile seemed fake, like a doll.

"I need a more genuine smile," he told her. "Think of something that's recently made you very happy. Let's try again. Roll, Silas… dab. Smile. There it is. There it is!"

He looked at the developed shot and snapped his fingers with glee. "This is it. Perfect. Miss… erm, Imogen, was it? You can go. We've finished here. Thank you. Silas, take this over to _Witch Weekly_ , please."

"Yes, Mr Riddle." Silas began packing up his leather case with the shot, and he capped the camera. Imogen smiled and waved on her way out of the studio, and Silas nodded and headed out, leaving Tom alone with Bellatrix, who was still sitting on the stool. Tom began to extinguish the bright lanterns shining on Bellatrix, and he murmured to her,

"What did you imagine that gave me that smile? That smile was perfect; what did you think about?"

"Dancing with you," she said simply. "I thought of dancing with you."

"Did you?" Tom dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. He approached Bellatrix, aiming his wand at the door and muttering, " _Colloportus._ "

Bellatrix gasped a tiny bit and gripped the edges of the stool where she sat. Tom approached her and threaded his fingers through her straightened hair, and he bent down to kiss her straight on the mouth. Her father hadn't been angry about it. She'd wanted it badly. He pushed into her mind with Legilimency as his tongue tangled with hers.

 _Heat. Wet. Want. Want. Want._

He put his hand to the small of her back and kissed her harder, dragging his tongue over the roof of her mouth and groaning softly when he felt her hand brush over the bulge in his trousers. Her fingers fluttered there, and Tom staggered backward.

"No, no, no," he scolded. "We mustn't do anything with _that_."

"With what?" Bellatrix stared up at him with her ruby red lips parted and beautiful and begging to be kissed again, and she reached to stroke at the hardness in his trousers again. "What is it? Is it your… your penis? Does it hurt?"

He shut his eyes and touched his eyebrows, rubbing there. "No, it doesn't hurt. It's my cock, Bellatrix, and it means that I want you, but I can't have you, so you must stop now."

"You could have me, if you wanted," Bellatrix said quietly, and Voldemort opened his eyes, glaring at her.

"I am not going to Azkaban for you. You should go home now."

She stood slowly from the stool and looked embarrassed.

"I've angered and offended you. I'm sorry. I'll go."

"Yes, do go." Tom gulped and watched her head to the door, knowing he needed to let her leave, knowing he needed to avoid casting her again for the rest of the summer. He couldn't have her. She was sixteen. He couldn't have her; he wouldn't go to Azkaban over a silly little girl.

"Goodbye, Mr Riddle," she said softly, and he said sharply in return,

"Goodbye, Miss Black."

* * *

 _Dear Miss Black,_

 _Happy seventeenth birthday. I hope things are going well for you at Hogwarts. I have missed the opportunity to work with you since we last saw one another in early August. I know that there is a Hogsmeade visit on the first of October, and I wonder if you would be willing to meet with me for an outdoor photo shoot to showcase one of Madam Malkin's new warm cloaks. I'll bring a portable camera for the shoot, and I'll even treat you to lunch at The Three Broomsticks afterward. Do write and let me know if you'll do the shoot._

 _I'm sorry we parted on harsh terms in early August. I'm sure you understand why that went the way it did._

 _Regards,_

 _Tom Riddle, L.V._

* * *

 _Dear L.V.,_

 _I am looking forward to wearing Madam Malkin's cloak for the photo shoot, and even more excited for lunch at The Three Broomsticks._

 _It took me a while to understand, but I understand now. And I'm seventeen now._

 _Regards,_

 _Bellatrix_

 **Author's Note: Awwwwwwwwwwwwww... Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Why are you putting so much makeup on for a trip down to Hogsmeade?" asked Garland Goyle as she did up her own outer school cloak in the Slytherin girls' dormitory. Bellatrix stared into the full-length mirror and carefully applied Stay All Day lipstick in a muted plum shade.

"I'm modeling today," she said simply.

"Modeling?" Garland looked to Ramona Lestrange and raised her eyebrows. "I thought you'd given it up after that lipstick ad."

"Well… not exactly," Bellatrix said, rising and pulling on her own cloak. The girls left the dormitory and started to walk out of the Common Room, and as they ascended from the dungeons, she told her peers, "Lor - Mr Riddle has written to me to ask me to model for him in a Madam Malkin's shoot. He's going to shoot the ad outdoors here in Hogsmeade. Or nearby. I don't know the specifics."

"Why didn't he just use an older model, someone out of school and available to shoot in Diagon Alley?" asked Garland, and Bellatrix shrugged lightly.

"I dunno. I guess he wanted me."

"I guess he wanted you," Garland repeated slowly, and Bellatrix stopped her steps just near where the checkpoint was to leave the school and go to Hogsmeade.

"What are you implying?" she snapped, and Garland looked to Ramona again. Ramona said carefully,

"We were all at Mr Malfoy's birthday party, Bellatrix. We all saw you dance with him. Now you're seventeen…"

"That's quite enough of that talk, thank you." Bellatrix stamped up to the professor with the list of approved names, waited for her permission to leave, and went.

* * *

She found him leaning against the Quidditch supply store, a leather duffel bag over one shoulder. He wore heavy black robes and looked supremely collected, not nervous the way Bellatrix felt. She caught his eye and he stood up straight, and he flashed her a little smile. She felt her insides twist and yank, and she said quietly,

"Hello, sir."

"Miss Black." His voice was prim and tight, and he gestured behind her to the forest. "May we photograph in the trees?"

"In… in the trees?" Bellatrix glanced over her shoulder to the thick rows of pine trunks. "Erm… yes. Of course. In the trees."

They walked in silence for a moment away from Hogsmeade's High Street, and then at last Mr Riddle said,

"I am really quite sorry about how we said goodbye last time."

"I understand, sir," Bellatrix assured him. And she did, too. She did understand why, when she'd still been sixteen and legally underage, he'd sent her out of the room after she'd caressed his hardened cock through his trousers. She did understand.

But she was seventeen now.

"Did you have a fine birthday?" asked Mr Riddle casually, and Bellatrix gave a silent, quick nod. She asked him anxiously,

"Is my hair and makeup all right for the shoot?"

"You look beautiful."

She froze at that, but his footsteps crunched on. She finally had to trot to keep up with him. Beautiful? She looked beautiful? Finally, they reached a little clearing, and Mr Riddle nodded approvingly.

"Perfect. Cloudy day; excellent light. Here's the cloak; you can leave your school one over there."

He opened his leather duffel bag and pulled out a black crushed velvet cloak that moved like water. Bellatrix took it from him and wrapped it around herself, neatly tying up the ribbon at the neck. She pulled up the heavy hood and arranged it around her wild curls. She tossed her school cloak out of the shot, to a nearby pine tree. She couldn't even see the street from here, for the trees were so thick and they'd climbed quite a ways up the hill. Bellatrix was actually a bit breathless from it. She found herself panting a bit as she held onto a nearby pine tree trunk, and then she heard Mr Riddle say,

"That's gorgeous. Look at me."

She did, surprised by his words, and she heard a loud click from his portable camera, which he'd pulled out whilst she'd been getting the cloak on. He smirked behind the camera and requested,

"Turn toward me just a little… yes. Perfect. Wrap your left arm round the tree and keep the right palm pressed against the trunk in the front. Look at the tree… now. Look at me."

 _Click._

"Perfect. Perfect. That was absolutely beautiful." Mr Riddle sounded almost excited, and he pressed a button on the camera that made it spit out a large print from its bottom. Mr Riddle used his wand to develop the print, and then he shook his head and marveled quietly,

"Bellatrix, you know it usually takes me an hour to get the right shot with a model, but with you… with you it takes less than a minute. And the ads are always so well-received. Why is that?"

"We work well together, My Lord," Bellatrix said on instinct. Mr Riddle froze, and then Bellatrix realised what she'd done. He tucked his camera into his bag, put the print into a leather folio and tucked it away, and looked up.

"What did you just call me?"

"I'm sorry. It just slipped out," Bellatrix rambled. "I've been thinking of you as _Lord Voldemort_ , not as _Tom Riddle_."

"Have you?" He walked up to where she stood at the pine tree, and he got on level ground with her so that he towered over her again. He slid his hands into the hood she was wearing and whispered, "You've got me hard again, Bella."

 _Bella._

Her eyes fluttered shut and her body went warm all over. She flushed wet between her legs and her ears rang. She reached out and did what had gotten her expelled from his presence when she'd been too young and it had been illegal. She reached out and fondled him. Reaching through layers of robes until she found his trousers, she used her hand to caress the rigid length she found, and she whispered,

"What does it do?"

"It goes inside of you, of course," he murmured back. Bellatrix leaned against the tree and kept fondling, kept caressing, and she opened her eyes.

"When?"

"When?" He seemed a little out of breath now. He got closer - so close; she could sell black earth and the ocean on him again like when they'd been dancing - and he asked, "You want it inside of you?"

"I do." Bellatrix started to pump her hand along the outline of his cock, along the shaft she could feel. "I want it. I want to serve you. I know you're not going to work for _Witch Weekly_ forever, and I want to work for you. I want to be whatever you want me to be, and I -"

"Merlin's Beard, Bellatrix." He grasped her face so hard then that it hurt a little, but she didn't mind. Not one bit. He bent down to kiss her, and when he did, it was the most delicious thing in the entire world. Tasting him, feeling his tongue twine with hers… she wanted more. She wanted it never to end, never to stop. But then he groaned loudly and she felt wet all over near her fingers. Had he urinated? Surely not. He ripped his face away, and his cheeks were scarlet. He was coming, she realised at once. Just like she did when she lay awake in bed at night with her curtains drawn and her fingers flying on herself. His face twisted a little, and he puffed out,

"Bloody hell. Sorry. I… _oh._ "

He seemed remarkably unembarrassed for a wizard who had just had an emission in his trousers standing in the forest. Instead he just whipped out his wand, cleaned himself up with a few muttered spells, tucked his wand away, and announced plainly,

"You excited me beyond measure, talking like that."

"Well, I mean it, sir," Bellatrix said honestly. "I do mean it. You're not going to be a photography editor for long. I know that. And when you become what you're meant to be, I should like to become your servant."

He shook his head and then bent to touch his lips to hers again and whispered,

"What a good, good girl you are. Such a good girl. I'd give you the Dark Mark - the symbol of my closest allies at the moment - but even dormant, it's like a pink tattoo, and I can't have you bearing it at school. Until you are no longer a student, you must simply be… mine."

"Yours?" Bellatrix raised her eyes to his, shocked by that suggestion. She studied his face, studied his hair and his eyes and his nose and his mouth, and she whispered again, "Yours?"

"Yes, mine," he nodded. "And then, when you leave school, you shall become a Death Eater. One of my soldiers. You'll make an eternal vow to me. How does that sound?"

She shut her eyes and felt tears boil up and stream down over her made-up cheeks. "That sounds like bliss, My Lord."

"Such a remarkably good girl." He kissed her again, harder this time, longer this time, and when at last he broke away, he said,

"I'll put it inside of you at Christmastime. You have my word. Now. Let's go get lunch at The Three Broomsticks. I promised you."

 **Author's Note: *Blissful sigh* Ahhhhh, fun little romps are such joys to write. Especially since I know my** _ **Fantastic Beasts**_ **fic is likely to be a doozy. So I'm just sitting here enjoying this one. Haha. Hope you're getting a little joy out of reading it. Thanks for any and all feedback.**


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear Bellatrix,_

 _How I wish you'd been round London for Hallowe'en. I had to shoot an advertisement for More Gore Fake Blood, and the model was absolutely horrified by the stuff. Somehow, I think you would have been amused by it. I would have gotten my perfect shot within a minute with you. It took me almost three hours with her. Hope you amused yourself for the holiday._

 _The world still stubbornly calls me Tom. Only you and my D.E.s use that other name. Someday people will be afraid to even whisper that other name. I promise us all that much._

 _Tom Riddle, L.V._

* * *

 _Dear L.V.,_

 _I would have loved to have done that fake blood advertisement. What a load of fun that would have been! I miss modeling. It's far more fun than the tedium of coursework here at Hogwarts._

 _I shall always think of you by that other name, the one people will fear to whisper. I think someday people will cower from your very presence. I think someday people will be afraid to even mention you. But I will be standing just behind you, my wand at the ready._

 _Bellatrix_

* * *

 _Dear Bellatrix,_

 _Is it getting cold there yet? I think that in the Highlands, late November is very cold, as I recall. I hope you are enjoying the cloak from Madam Malkin's. I hope you were not offended that I purchased the item used in the shoot and gave it to you as a gift that day in early October. You did not seem offended. You seemed pleased. For some reason, it pleases me when you are pleased._

 _And now I sound rather pathetic, don't I?_

 _But in less than a month, you'll be steaming home on the Hogwarts Express, and that pleases me._

 _You know what I promised you. Do you still wish for it?_

 _Tom Riddle, L.V._

* * *

 _Dear L.V.,_

 _I want it more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes - I beg it of you. Do what you promised. Name the time and place._

 _Bellatrix_

* * *

 _Bella,_

 _Number 74, Addison Road, Kensington, London._

 _The twentieth of December._

 _Seven o'clock in the evening. Come hungry._

 _L.V._

* * *

By ten to seven in the evening on the twentieth of December, Lord Voldemort (as he had decided in his mind that he had become wholly) was a complete wreck. He'd spent the last week shooting a frenzied flurry of Christmas advertisements, but now, on the twentieth, all the advertising was done, and the students from Hogwarts had been home for two days.

He paced around the parlour of his immaculate flat, which was half of an elegant white Georgian building in Kensington, the other half of which was owned by the copy editor of _Witch Weekly._ The way the split worked afforded Voldemort plenty of privacy and loads of space, neither of which he had really needed. Until now.

He glanced around his blue and white parlour and wondered suddenly if it was gaudy. Was it gaudy? Was it ugly? He cleared his throat and wondered why he cared. Why did he give a rat's whisker what Bellatrix Black thought of his flat?

 _Knock, knock, knock._

Voldemort blinked. Then his feet dragged him to his front door, and he forced himself to open it, and then there she was.

He'd almost forgotten, in the two and a half months since he'd seen her, since she'd touched him to completion, since he'd kissed her fiercely, how pretty she was. He'd almost forgotten how beautiful her hair was, how incredibly lovely her face was. He remembered now. He stood aside and gestured for her to come in, and he murmured,

"Happy Christmastime."

"My Lord," she purred, peeling back the hood of the crushed velvet Madam Malkin's robe he'd bought and given to her as a gift. She untied it at the neck and and peeled it off, and he accepted it from her as he shut the door. He hung it on the rack near the door and asked softly,

"Do you care for pork chops? I'm a middling cook at best, but I dusted off an old cooking spellbook and whipped up some boneless pork chops with honey mustard and balsamic glaze, along with some roasted potato."

"That hardly sounds middling," Bellatrix grinned, and Voldemort smirked as he led her through his blue parlour - which he now decided was definitely gaudy - and into the elegant dark green dining room. On the table were two plates, Enchanted to stay warm, and two glasses of dry red wine. Voldemort wandlessly pushed out Bellatrix's chair for her, and she sat, and he slid into the chair opposite her.

"So," he asked, cutting into his pork, "how were your end-of-term exams?"

"All grand, except for Divination, My Lord," she said, and he decided that it was absolute honey to his ears when she said that, when she called him that. _My Lord._ She continued, "We were meant to see something in a crystal ball, but all I saw was white smoke, so I made something up. Said I saw a vision of this Ravenclaw girl slipping and falling down the stairs and getting injured. My teacher said she could tell I was lying, and she failed me on my exam. Ah, well. I aced Potions, Defence, Transfiguration, History of Magic…"

"You're a fair pupil, then," said Voldemort, and Bellatrix raised her pretty eyes to him. She smiled a little and confessed,

"I've been studying harder these last few months than usual. I want to be ready. Prepared. For you."

"For me?" He put down his knife and fork carefully, and Bellatrix swigged a little wine before she said,

"I want to be ready to be a soldier for you in whatever happens. When you gather your pieces and begin your game of chess, I want to work well for you."

"Oh, Bella." Voldemort's throat felt profoundly tight then, and he stared down at his plate as he mumbled, "These plates will stay warm. I… I am not hungry at the moment. Not for food, anyway."

All he could hear then was the sound of her breath, quick but steady, from across the table. He looked up, staring at her, their eyes locked, and she finally whispered,

"Upstairs?"

"Yes." He rose and stalked around the table like a cat after a mouse, and he held his hand out to her. She took it, and the feel of her fingers on his palm was very nice indeed. Suddenly he was transported back to Abraxas Malfoy's birthday party, when they'd danced, when they'd kissed, and he wanted so much more of her. He wanted her _now_ , here, here in his home.

"Where did you tell your parents you were going?" he asked, and she shamelessly stood and shrugged.

"I told them I was paying a visit to the Dark Lord."

"Is that what you told your father?" Voldemort whispered, and Bellatrix nodded. Voldemort grasped her face and kissed her as hard as he could, slamming their faces together so hard that their teeth clacked, and he thrust his tongue between her lips. Bellatrix moaned like a harlot, her hands shoving at Voldemort's robes, pushing them away until he was standing there in his black dress shirt and his trousers.

"Bellatrix." He needed her now. _Now._ He shoved her roughly back toward the wall and dragged his hands up from the outsides of her thighs, grabbing fistsfuls of her dress and hiking it up. Once her skirts were around her waist, he slid his fingers into the waistband of her black satin knickers and edged them down, and then Bellatrix said something that did hi in for good.

"I cast a contraceptive charm on myself at home."

"Fucking hell." He shoved her face aside with his and bent to kiss her neck, lapping and nicking and suckling as he shoved her knickers down, down, down. She kicked them off, kicked them away, and suddenly Voldemort realised they were not going to make it upstairs.

"I'm going to fuck you against this wall; sorry." He wasn't really all that apologetic, and she could tell. She laughed a little and reached for the waistband of his trousers, her wide brown eyes searching his as she asked in a low, sibilant voice,

"Will you take it out and put it inside of me like you promised? My Lord?"

"Merlin's Beard. Yes. _Yes_." He frantically unbuttoned his trousers and whipped out his cock, and he shoved his shirt up and his trousers down a bit for comfort. He approached Bellatrix, pinning her to the wall, and he said to her,

"I need you to hold on very tightly to me. You're tiny, and I'm not a weakling, but you need to hold on tight."

"Yes, sir," she gasped, sounding utterly breathless with want now. He decided he might like to play with her a little first, and his fingers crept between her thighs, into the downy patch of hair and to the satiny folds beneath. He worked her there for a few minutes as her head tipped back and then to the side, as her palms pressed to the wall, as the pork chops lay forgotten but warm on the table.

He toyed with her folds, with her entrance, with her clit, taking his time, twisting and thrusting and dragging and circling, until at last he could tell she was going to snap. She was moaning continuously, her voice a low whine, and her nipples had puckered, peaked and eager through her thin dress. Finally he felt her coming, felt her contractions as her whine of a moan turned into a cry, and Voldemort watched as a dewy drop of enthusiastic fluid drizzled from the tip of his cock. He needed her. He needed her _now_.

"You need to hold on tightly to me," he said again, and he hoisted Bellatrix up from her waist, pinning her as tightly as he possibly could to the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, wrapped her legs around his waist and hips, and she held on for dear life. Voldemort shut his eyes and settled her onto his cock, hissing with want and satisfaction.

" _Hayanossiath…_ "

He hadn't been expecting to speak Parseltongue in his moment of extreme bliss, but there it was, and Bellatrix's voice in his ear just whispered,

"It doesn't hurt so very badly."

He was sheathed inside of her, and he gave her body a moment to adjust, but then he went to work. Soon enough he was pounding her, slamming her against the wall, and Bellatrix was throwing her head back and groaning, her neck gorgeous as she did. She was tight. Warm. So tight. So young, so beautiful. His, his, his, his, _his._

"My Lord," she began to say, as though pleading with him. "Oh, My Lord. My Lord. My Lord."

He came so hard then that it was like a bomb had gone off in his brain. He almost dropped her, pushing hard against the wall to avoid doing so. His come pumped into her body as his ears rang and he saw spots behind his eyelids. Eventually he felt like he couldn't hold her anymore, like he was about to drop her, so he slowly set her down and murmured,

"Well. I had intended for your first time to be done properly, in a bed. I do… erm… apologise."

"You have absolutely nothing to apologise for, My Lord," Bellatrix said in a dizzy sort of voice. She put herself to rights after Voldemort Scoured the both of them. There had been a little blood, but neither of them mentioned it. She pulled on her knickers and straightened her skirts, and then she sat back down at the table.

The pork chops finally got eaten at that point, and after dinner, Voldemort saw Bellatrix over to the door and watched as she put on her heavy winter cloak, the one he'd gifted her.

"I'm going to be your servant someday," she said as she pulled the cloak on and tied it at the neck. "You've already got Death Eaters, and I'll be one someday. Tell me, My Lord, how to serve you now."

"Make me happy," he shrugged, and Bellatrix's thick brows furrowed in confusion. Voldemort sighed heavily.

"For the time being, I still work for magazines, and the world still knows me as Tom Riddle. There will be battles someday, Bella, but those battles are far in the distance. For now… make me happy. That is serving me. Making me happy."

"I would like to try to do that," Bellatrix nodded, and Voldemort tucked her curls behind her ear inside her crushed velvet hood.

"You don't have to try very hard," he assured her. "You make me happy."

"I wish I didn't have to go back to school," she said with a sad smile, and he shrugged.

"When do you go back?"

"Third of January," she said, and his eyebrows went up.

"That's almost two weeks from now," he said. "Just think how many visits you can pay to the Dark Lord between now and then. Hm?"

She grinned, looking elated, and nodded. Then her smile faded just a little, and she asked cautiously,

"Have you many witches that make you happy, My Lord?"

"No." He shook his head and said honestly, "Only one. Goodnight, Bella."

"Goodnight, My Lord." She took a step toward him, and he bent to gently kiss her lips. He took a moment to savor the kiss, to soak it in, and then he released her and opened the door. Suddenly he scowled and asked,

"How did you get here? Surely you haven't got your Apparition Licence yet?"

"I flew. Disillusioned." Bellatrix pulled a broomstick from the wall outside Voldemort's flat door, and he smirked a little at her.

"Would you like me to take you home by Side-Along?" he asked, but she assured him,

"I'm a good flier, My Lord. I promise. Thank you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he said, and he watched her mount the broom, Disillusion herself until she blended in with her surroundings, and then vanish into the London night.

 **Author's Note: So they finally did it! Up against a wall. Hahaha. Also, I think this is one of the first stories I've written where Bellatrix is really, really into flying, and we're definitely going to see more of that. ;) Thank you for reading and a massive thank you for reviewing.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Bellatrix! If you don't hurry up, we are going to be… oh, my stars. The girl's straightened her hair."

Bellatrix anxiously looked up from her boudoir in her bedroom at her parents' house to see Andromeda and Narcissa standing in the doorway. Andromeda was wearing a plum-coloured gown, sleek and long-sleeved, and Narcissa had opted for fluffy white tulle that made her look deceptively angelic.

"Does it look bad?" Bellatrix asked nervously, and both her sisters shook their heads in unison. Bellatrix stared into her mirror. She'd used Sleekeazy's to tame her hair until it was silky and straight, and then she'd brought it in all its volume into a high, large bun at the crown of her head. She'd pushed a small tiara, a family heirloom consisting of twisted silver and small, glittering diamonds, into the knot of hair until it rested against the bun. She wore a small diamond round her neck, a pendant that had been a gift from her grandmother for her sixteenth birthday. She had done up winged eyeliner and ruby red Stay All Day lipstick on her powdered face, and she'd put on a strapless black satin gown with an A-Line skirt that split to reveal black tulle. Now Bellatrix pulled on black elbow-length gloves, and she promised her sisters,

"I'm just about ready to go."

"Bella, you look…" Narcissa seemed at a loss for words, but Andromeda said almost accusingly,

"You've done yourself up for _him_ , haven't you? For Mr Riddle?"

"That isn't his name anymore," Bellatrix murmured gently, adjusting her fingers in her gloves and rising from her chair. She moved her feet into her flat black satin slippers - she had decided against heels since tonight would involve so much dancing - and followed her sisters downstairs to the Floo Fireplace. Their parents were already waiting for them there, and Druella Black raised her brows.

"My, my," she said, looking at the girls. "Don't you three look lovely. Yet another Pureblood event… the Avery Family Christmas Party. Now, girls. Tonight, all of Pureblood high society will be gathered at Avery Castle. I want you three on your best behaviour."

She gave a hard look to Bellatrix and gulped. Over the last few months, it had become more and more clear in wizarding circles that Lord Voldemort was going to become someone very important. Bellatrix's parents had made it quite clear to her that they hardly objected to any 'attempts' by Bellatrix to become courted by Lord Voldemort. Having the ascending Dark Lord take their daughter for his own was a best-case scenario for them. They didn't need wealth, but fame… prestige…

"Best behaviour, girls," Druella said again, and she pinched her lips. She took a handful of Floo Powder, stepped into the fireplace, and shouted clearly,

"Avery Castle!"

* * *

"Bellatrix!" Ramona Lestrange and Garland Goyle came walking up to Bellatrix in the Avery ballroom, which felt awfully cramped with the entirety of wizarding high society inside of it. Bellatrix sipped her red wine and flashed the girls a little smile.

"Hullo."

"My cousin is too shy to ask you to dance. He thinks you'll say no," said Ramona, and Bellatrix scowled.

"Who, Dolph? He asked me to dance over the summer. He's been staring at me all term."

"Yes, but everyone knows that you and Mr Riddle are a bit flirtatious these days. Rodolphus asked me to come find out if he's allowed to dance with you or not."

Bellatrix huffed a breath and shook her head. "It isn't as though I'm his _girlfriend_ or anything."

She stared across the room to where Lord Voldemort stood in a small crowd, speaking to a group of four or five who seemed to be listening carefully to what he had to say. Her heart pounded, and she turned back to the girls. He was busy right now. It wasn't as though he could dance with her. And it wasn't as though she was his girlfriend.

"Tell Rodolphus I'll dance with him," Bellatrix nodded to Ramona Lestrange. "Go get him. We'll dance."

Three minutes later, Rodolphus was leading Bellatrix out onto the dance floor, and a solemn, beautiful Christmas two-step was played by the enchanted instruments in the corner. Rodolphus carefully took Bellatrix's hand, his fingers shaking like mad, and his other hand trembled where it settled between her shoulder blades. Bellatrix cleared her throat and asked,

"How's Quidditch been going? I know the record - Slytherin's not doing so well this year. Third place behind Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

"No, we're not so good this year," Rodolphus smirked mirthlessly. He shook his head. "Rabastan and I can't quite figure it. Everett Avery's a good Seeker, but in almost every match so far this year, the other Seeker's just gotten there first. Our Beaters are solid; our Keeper is good. Our Chasers put up so many points, but… we just aren't getting there."

He'd gone on and on and on, but Bellatrix had managed to pretend to be very interested. She nodded and then caught a glimpse of Voldemort behind Rodolphus. He was staring - no, _glaring_ \- at Rodolphus and Bellatrix dancing, and the look in his eyes was terrifying. Bellatrix's heart thunked, and she stared up at Rodolphus.

"I think we need to stop dancing, Dolph," she whispered, and he looked confused. Bellatrix shook her head minutely and said, "He's angry."

"Oh." Rodolphus took his hands off of Bellatrix so quickly it was like she'd been on fire, and then he backed away quickly. He bowed respectfully to Bellatrix, and his face flushed scarlet as he hustled off into the crowd. Bellatrix was left standing alone on the dance floor as others moved around her, swaying and rotating. Bellatrix found Voldemort's eyes again, and then she watched him turn to the crowd that was gathered around him, and he appeared to say something final, something to excuse himself. People bowed their heads, and then Voldemort came walking toward her.

People gave him curious looks as he passed by, as he moved through the thick knot of people between his conversation and the dance floor. Finally he reached Bellatrix, just as people applauded the end of one song. He bowed, low and reverently, and when he stood, Bellatrix curtsied deeply to him.

"Dance with me," he said, not asking, and Bellatrix gave him a crooked little smile. Why did she like the idea of him being jealous and angry about Rodolphus Lestrange? She did like that idea, very much. She gulped as she took his hand and felt his palm press confidently between her shoulders. He pulled her very near him, and as they moved, she could smell damp earth and ocean on him.

They'd met only once more since he'd taken her against the wall. It had been the very next day, and he'd taken her in his bed, slowly at first and then urgently from behind. That had been yesterday. Today, the twenty-second, was her third day in a row seeing him. Still, she could not get enough of him. The smell of him, the feel of his skin on her skin. She sighed and gazed up into his eyes, and she said quietly,

"This is paradise, right this moment."

"You are the most beautiful witch in this castle," said Voldemort firmly. Bellatrix's lips parted, and he added, "I don't ever want to see you dancing with another wizard again. You are _mine_."

Bellatrix grinned, and she whispered, "I'm sorry."

He flicked his eyes to her left forearm, where it lay near his shoulder, and he said in a low voice,

"Soon enough, you'll be my servant forever and ever. But for now, you are bound to make me happy. And in order to do that, you must me _mine_. So don't dance with anyone else, Bella. Dance with me. This song, and the next, and the next, until they stop playing and they make us all go home."

Bellatrix's eyes welled, and she nodded up to him. "Happy Christmastime, My Lord."

THE END

 **Author's Note: Well, that was a fun little rompity romp, no? This will likely be my last Bellamort until after I've written and completed my** _ **Fantastic Beasts**_ **writing, and I'm taking a fanfiction break until then since Real Life is crazy right now and I also want to be in peak writing form when FB comes out. I hope you'll join me for whatever FB cooks up in my head. See you then.**


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